Best With Nostalgia Poems
We all seem to think of flowers, only in the sun.
Did you realize at night, it is time they dance in floral fun?
After the busy insects, got their tasty food for the day,
The flowers can relax in the most unique, enchanting way.
They recall with nostalgia, how the baby roses grew so tall!
And how quickly the young, dark, green ivy, crawled up the garden wall.
With glee, they relax, as no person will uproot them from family or friends.
And are so very grateful when the sun does set, the day finally does end!
The sounds of car horns, motorcycles, lawn-mowers are finally at rest.
Dont you know, it’s cooler for them, as they get a well-deserved rest?
They thank God for this precious day, having done so very well their jobs.
Free now, to flower-talk, free of the jabber and loud talk of the human mobs.
They chatter with one another, about today’s sunny, busy, happenings.
Studying the stars, and grateful that no noise from any backgate swings!
4/14/2024
Categories:
with nostalgia, beautiful, fantasy, flower, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
Lying in bed..
In my deathbed
Don't have much time..
I am filled..
with nostalgia..
Memories of which I will always cherish..
Within my deepest thoughts
I imagine I am a child again
the child inside me..
Such joyful memories ..
Memories of running so freely in the grass..
Holding hands with my playmates..
Sharing secrets
Laughter..
The innocence of it all..
Years progressing..
From childhood..
To adolescent
To adulthood..
Being a curious teen..
Having major crushes ..
My first kiss
My first love..
Living as an adult..
Major responsibilities occurs..
Finding the love of my life..
Marrying the love of my life
Having children..
Living a blessed life..
Years progress..
Often wondering..
How my body is frail..
How these wrinkles..
Gave me character
How my health deteriorated..
Within a blink of an eye..
Now I have reached my final stage..
Sadly I am..
Slowing waiting for my own demise..
How shall it feel ?
Shall I embrace the unknown ?
My beautiful family is gone..
They all have made their final departure..
Before myself..
I have lived a long and full life..
I feel alone now..
Alone in my deathbed..
Awaiting my transition..
Perhaps when one door closes..
Another door opens..
Going from one state of being
To another..
Energy cannot be destroyed..
It only changes form..
I do not fear death..
It is dying I fear..
Fear of the old door..
Entering into a new door..
Which is fear of the unknown..
Categories:
with nostalgia, death, deep, fear, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
Ah, the rustic charm of our old uncovered bridges
built in a century not quite on the verge of major industrialization -
back in a time when connections were vital
for fledgling communities just starting to survive and later, to thrive.
They spanned an entire era with a semblance
of simplicity and romance, providing shelter
in a world still moving slowly yet steadily toward progress.
It was not long before they’d be left behind.
Today we travel across vast expanses of bridges – uncovered ones
from which the world we view flies past us
through the windows of speeding automobiles
and virtually from screens of phones and computers.
No longer are we isolated from the world.
Today’s bridges span global communities
in a society where everyone on the planet is privy
to almost everything happening everywhere!
Today’s bridges, forged of steel, are longer and stronger.
We take them for granted, feeling secure in our convenient technologies
as we communicate and travel at faster rates
than ever dreamed possible two centuries ago.
Alas, once the last remnants of such things as
old-fashioned covered wooden bridges are obliterated,
they will be as ancient Egyptian artifacts viewed on Google
with less and less interest shown by each new generation, and
the yet unborn poets of tomorrow will one day write with nostalgia
of today’s uncovered bridges of steel.
Aug. 27, 2017 for the "Covered Bridges" Contest of Craig Cornish
Categories:
with nostalgia, nostalgia, world,
Form:
Free verse
Oh! The joy of life when one it seems
wants to climb into a portrait of sentiment,
only then to create a trembling emotion
that completes an insatiable mind,
when one’s image blending with nostalgia
ferments for a moment like a perpetual habit
served up as vintage wine.
To be reconciled with one’s inner self,
the body here now, yet, a mind
locked in another dimension reliving
a fading monochrome print, brought
to life with one’s own vivid anamnesis.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Categories:
with nostalgia, memory, remember,
Form:
Free verse
again …
here I am -
a glum ghost
a somber shadow
I have come to dream
to pledge duty, your gleam
to venerate your foreday liturgy
ah, and mend the mist - the magical mist
another mercurial morn creature such as we
ever cautiously coy in its dark, shifting purpose
with foggy fingers it creeps shore-ward
tickling the rocks and rills with vexing facility
its dew-dripping appendages grasp the bluff
and cloak it in a brume shawl
sea's briny breath
braided to a blanket
covering all in a supernal spell
as if we haunt some lofty realm
paused between stars and steeples
to dance for the dawn's enchantment
but I am here for longing's sake
to entomb my pallid pining
priceless little maudlin chunks of my life
that I must forever let loose
whimsical moments spent here, made precious by another
a sweet syrup called "her" that drips from my being
and dribbles its way to my visceralities
where now it turns rancid with nostalgia
poisoning my spirit
you ...
with your winking perpetuity
shall be the last witness to my remorse
you - my lonely, reticent, stolid beacon
shall be the final testament
to every tear let in her stead
to every hapless heartache rent for her
to every soul-wrenching dream torn from the night
and to every last hush of her name on the wind
I throw it all down now
to crash on these jagged cliffs with the morning wake
to end where it was first entrusted
with the shutter of your winking eye
and the first misty beams ... of a new day.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Lighthouse" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
with nostalgia, analogy, appreciation, beauty, goodbye,
Form:
Free verse
Blackberry bushes barricade the background
of your immature stature.
Braided chestnut hair rests gently
on weakly shoulders
as your hazel eyes beam a child's rippling wonder.
Bee-glazed berry juice permeates your smiling cheeks.
The taste streams alive as I gaze upon you
with your burgundy splashed denim jumper,
which belongs in an art museum,
but remains in my heart.
Your quarter full pail fills with sunshine brined time.
In search of the best, you request my help
to reach the hierarchy of treats,
those that brush the sun's ripening wonder first.
A perfumery of sweet harvest freshness
tickles my nasal cavity with nostalgia.
Your imprinting hand hugs mine as
my prime pickings are exchanged for smiles.
I can almost hear your laughter,
scattering impulsively throughout my longing.
In this photograph, for only a moment,
I can almost bring you back.
2/25/2020
Categories:
with nostalgia, girl, happy, i miss
Form:
Free verse
This one is going to hurt.
That is why it has taken me so long to write it,
Because a part of me still loves you
And thought you would call or write me.
I know you need your time;
You have your process, and I respect it.
But today, today, I was ready.
I opened the drawers.
I picked up your sweaters,
This time not to smell it,
But to fold it nicely and carefully place it in a box,
The first of many items, ready to go,
Because I am ready to let go.
Let go of the hope that we could still be.
I said my goodbyes to you slowly, thoughtfully,
Letting every memory of every outing and every snuggle
Flood my brain.
And with every packed trouser, shirt, and pair of socks,
I was able to smile and embrace
Every memory with nostalgia and gratitude.
You were with me through some of the toughest times in my life;
We uplifted, loved, and encouraged one another for four years,
And we loved through the laughter and the tears.
As I pack your things, I no longer have fear.
Yes, we have grown apart,
But the memory of us will forever live in my heart.
I am grateful for the time we shared,
And am proud of who we are.
Maybe in another life, we would have married and stayed merry,
But in this one, I am filling boxes with your things.
In this one,
I can only cherish the moments we had
As I say goodbye and wish you love, luck, and happiness.
Happiness, I, too, know I will find.
But know that a part of me will forever love you,
And although my heart is heavy, today, I know I am ready.
Yes, it did hurt,
But in the process, it also healed.
And the box is now sealed.
Categories:
with nostalgia, break up, devotion, hurt,
Form:
Free verse
Your song speaks to you..
Only you..
It makes your heart skip a beat..
It surrounds you with nostalgia..
A connection fills you completely..
Absorbed in emotions..
It captivates your spirit..
You are no longer alone
As you dive into a state of bliss..
Your song is an enchanting gateway..
You are on a smooth ride of joy..
A ride that envelops your whole being..
Your song is freedom..
You are..
Free from all..
Mesmerised with radiance..
Cheerfully light hearted..
In..
That precise moment in time..
A euphoric blast shapes form..
Out of this world ..
You delve into the epitome of magic..
Your magic expands as your song intensifies..
The vibration moves your soul..
Heart explodes ..
Soul is touched..
As you literally left your body..
Categories:
with nostalgia, inspirational, meaningful, music, song,
Form:
Free verse
The sea is rough and I never learned to swim
So I won't push the boat out
I won't push the boat out
I shall stay on shore and have a feast
Of delicious happy thoughts and plans
For treats and pleasures coloured pink
With my extraordinary friends and swap stories
About how we survived so far and feel proud.
Then maybe we shall play some cards or paint a picture
Perhaps sing a song filled with nostalgia and cry while
We celebrate each other with toasts made of sparkles
And effervesse with happy feelings and love for each other!
Categories:
with nostalgia, peoplehappy, boat, happy,
Form:
I pray for a palace of dreams and memories
With stones and pillars of mementos
And high crystal ceilings that glow with my dreams.
Halls filled with melancholy melodies—
Each bittersweet note echoing the hopes, fears
And tears of all my past years and epochs.
I wish to wear regalia woven with nostalgia,
So I may dance with familiar shadows, dining with them
On pleasing delicacies of olden days while waited upon by
Mere thoughts.
I yearn for stately windows viewing wondrous groves
That rustle with all that which could have been, but did not—
And colossal galleries of art that mirrors my memories,
So I may live them again, but only as a perfect dream.
Categories:
with nostalgia, allegory, art, beautiful, dance,
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
After working day long, was relaxing mind and soul
With a beautiful song.it took away all the troubles
Out of me.
As I was gazing around,my eyes caught the glimpse
Of a bright colored book.
Ah!! After a long hiatus,I saw the book.
it filled me up with nostalgia.
It was my diary ,a vault of my wonderful memories
Of good and bad.
Opened the book ,saw all the poems
Written when I was young.
Sweet music was being played in the heart,
Read all those poems .
There was one unfinished poem looking
Sadly at me,saying ,give me a beautiful ending.
Ran my fingers over the pages,
Which was my savior from unrest .
This busy life made me forget the treasure
Trove of poems and passion.
The poem got me time travel and
I watched and enjoyed those bygone moments.
A poem about feelings which are unsaid
But still hold so strong in the heart.
The poem got its beautiful end,
it taught me that feelings are to be expressed
and they still linger in the heart,the
person goes away from us.
Its not that feelings are dead and
Heart had dried up,they blossom like
A flower every time whenever the
Cross our minds and make us
Relish those wonderful moments.
Tears rolled down my cheeks
Of content and happiness.
dt:12/3/1012
Categories:
with nostalgia, beautiful, childhood, feelings, me,
Form:
Classicism
Norman Rockwell
Rockwellesque
brilliant man with nostalgia values
with dreams viewed of a perfect life
depicting amusing scenes
with sense of humor, shown
with heartwarming bonds
memories fade
canvas art
captures
life
12/2/2015
Poetry Contest: Favorite Painter
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
www.howmanysyllables.com
Norman Rockwell
Norman Percevel Rockwell was a 20th-century American painter and illustrator. His works enjoy a broad popular appeal in the United States for their reflection of American culture
Born: February 3, 1894, New York City, NY
Died: November 8, 1978, Stockbridge, MA
Children: Thomas Rockwell, Jarvis Waring, Peter Barstow
Organizations founded: Famous Artists School
Notable works: Willie Gillis, Rosie the Riveter, Four Freedoms, The Problem We All Live With
Categories:
with nostalgia, art, work,
Form:
Nonet
Ruminating over a golden era gone by and over possessiveness filled me with nostalgia
Ultimate luxury of vying for a car as well as owning a chauffeur driven one was
Sadly for the migrated rulers who ruled over another dynasty across oceans
The massive Ford drove into grandpa's driveway in the early forties
Exactly thirty years later it stood dark, forlorn, inviting rust under the banyan tree
Devoid of its master whose ashes were bestrewn within the old British Raj bungalow
Benign weather peeled off layers of its glossy makeup despite its bare upkeep; our
Undulating frustration as it drank too many gallons; moleskin upholstery on bucketed
Seats laid bare its withered ribs, spouting foul smell in rain and sun; the rolling
Tyres busted for the wheels didn't spin down the familiar roads along the hill; our
Eyes got sore at its lost lustre while we heaved deep sighs at its opulent maintenance
Divine providence intervened to refurbish the vintage for glorious view in the Museum
Contest Judged on June 26, 2016
July 1, 2016
For Broken Wings
Contest: I Got Zero, Nothing, Nada - 1
*Migrated rulers refer to the British rule in India
Categories:
with nostalgia, absence, car, care, death,
Form:
Acrostic
There is no other place to compare
With nostalgia and profusion it bares
A place where I dissolve my thoughts
And a convention of love never bought
When I am with him I forget about time
But still recording every little moment - I’ll be fine
This is the place I call home
In his presence is where I roam
(in the arms of an angel)
There might be days of sadness
There might be weeks of madness
Nothing for my hearts content
But then the thought of him - gives me spirit to defend
Then I see it all and everything disappears
In his presence I have no fears
(in the arms of an angel)
My love for him always stands
Not a list of any demands
I want to plant that what is only good
In his presence as it should
(in the the arms of an angel)
Now that I have turned over every stone
And licked dry every bone
I treasure the magical time we shared, that every days
I promise will never be lost in any ways
My cup overflows – I confess
In his presence was absolutely the best
(in the arms of an angel)
Categories:
with nostalgia, angel, love,
Form:
Free verse
Haiku #1.
Filled with nostalgia as
I stare back from their depths
Crystal pools of radiance.
Categories:
with nostalgia, nostalgia
Form:
Haiku